Runaways
by kiwitehbirdy
Summary: Weechester/Sam and Weechester/Dean run away after John goes too far with his discipline methods and puts Sam in the hospital. Sam is twelve and Dean is sixteen. * Not complete*
1. Chapter 1

The sleek black body of the Impala zooms down a stretch of open road, with the sixteen-year-old Dean Winchester behind the wheel. He'd gotten the black beauty about three months ago for his sixteenth birthday when his dad decided he and Sam could stay by themselves longer than a couple of months and that they would need a way to move is the happiest he's been since getting the car, on the open road breaking nearly all the speed limits, but there wasn't anyone around but him to care. His dad is about to leave him and Sam in another new location, and he's glad. John has been turning to the bottle more than usual lately, and that wasn't good for either him nor his brother because John got violent; leaving more than the occasional bruise. And even though Dean's having the time of his life with his baby, he can't help but worry about leaving Sam alone with their dad, even on this short supply run because Sam always got the worst of it. Not only that, but the way dad practically forced him out the door after he caught Sam working on some school project when he was supposed to be training with Dean, and pretended not to be mad about it. But he saw behind the mask of calm was anger, they both had tried to defend Sam, telling Dad that it was his fault, that he told Sam that he could work for another couple of minutes, all while purposefully standing between his little brother and father. However, as always, John just pushed Dean aside telling him to stop taking blame for his brother's mistakes, then telling him to go on a supply run. The only reason he didn't fight or ask questions this time is because last time it just made things worse, so he snathed the offered money and left, leaving Sam with John with nothing but a face of ' I'll be back soon, promise'. Knowing just a look wouldn't make anything better, but it was something, right?So some might say Dean isn't speeding for his own amusement, but he was speeding to get to his his brother with the fun just an added bonus.

He comes to a fast stop in the dirt driveway of their temporary home situated in the middle of some trees, with the next neighbors across the lake. Some family Dad had helped is letting them stay here for free until the summer, so they're here for a lot longer than they would usually stay anywhere. The small vacation house is well kept, the brown paint on its wooden exterior looking pretty new, and they each got their own bedroom, and it is only ten minutes from town,so neither of them minded, especially Sam. Sam is thrilled to be able to stay in one school until the end. Dean smirks, yep little geeky Sammy excited about school. He himself couldn't care less about school at this point, just another year and he's home free. Turning off the engine,He climbs out the driver's seat with two plastic bags in hand from his trip into town. He didn't really grab much, just enough for he and Sam to last a couple of days. Dean walks past the empty space where his dad's new monster of a truck was before he left. ' So, maybe Dad left without giving Sam a hard time', he hopes to himself as he advances up the porch steps. He shifts both bags to the same hand and unlocks the light brown door with his key before pushing it open. As soon as he steps beyond the threshold everything feels...wrong. Broken furniture and glass litter the floor, and Sam is nowhere in sight. " Sam!", he yells his voice echoing through the entire one-floor house as he drops the bags and draws his gun. Without any idea of who or what caused this, he prepares for the worst. Slowly he walks through the house, scanning his gun in each dark corner. When he finally makes his way to the back, where the bathroom is he notices the light seeping through the closed door. Quieter this time he calls his brother in a normal speaking voice.

It takes a while but then he hears a low whimper, " P-please, s-s-stop,"

That's all it takes for Dean to realize who'd destroyed the house like this; their dad. And on the other side of that door is no doubt Sam, and the kid doesn't just sound scared like he usually would, but he sounds straight horrified. He presses his forehead on the door so that he could be heard when he speaks softly, " Sammy, it's me, it's Dean.", and he feels he should add, " Dad's gone, it's just me."

It's low and almost whisper like, but he hears Sam respond, " Dean", hopefully.

The older brother opens the door and holsters his gun, stepping into the bathroom. When he gets a look at his brother Dean could have sworn that his jaw hit the floor. Sam is in the far corner hiding between the bathtub and wall, with his face hidden by his knees, which are folded to his chest with his arms hugging them, and he's rocking back and forth. The white tiled floor is tainted with blood, and there are bloodied gauze right by Sam. Dean rushes over to his injured little brother as Sam slowly lifts his head exposing angry bruises on his cheek and opposite eye. Dean comes to a stop on one knee right in front of Sam. " Sammy, are you bleeding", he says trying and failing to stop his voice from shaking. He notices how unfocused, Sam's eyes are looking; probably a concussion. Dean puts his palms on both of Sam's cheeks, feeling the warmth radiating off of him, and forces the younger's eyes to meet his. " Is that your blood, Sam.", he asks again, pushing Sam's knees away from his chest, no blood there, so where is it coming from? Sam hold his hand out to Dean, showing his palm loosely wrapped in a bled through bandage. The older brother thumbs Sam's silent falling tears, " What else", Dean questions taking note of how Sam is keeping a protective arm around his ribs.

" M' head and ribs", he answers shakily taking short panicky breaths, and letting his trembling hand droop to the floor.

" Hey, hey, Sammy everything's alright, I'm gonna fix you up, okay.", Dean softly whispers to his little brother, attempting to calm him, " Let me have a look at that hand."

Sam once again holds his hand out, and Dean slides the wrap off. To himself, he swears at the still flowing blood. ' Shit this definitely needs stitches'. He stands up to retrieve the med kit from its place in the mirror's cabinet, then returns back to Sam, sitting crisscrossed on the floor. He opens the white metal box, grabs fresh gauze, and holds it down on Sam's palm. " You wanna tell me what happened?", he asks already knowing the answer, yet still wanting to be wrong.

Sam's breathing is calmer than before, but still a bit panicked. He wanted to tell Dean like he always did, but this time was much worse than it's ever been, his mind just wouldn't put it in words. " He was really angry", he manages to choke out, clearing his teary eyes with his uninjured hand.

" I know", Dean prepares the necessary supplies to sew Sam's hand closed. He sees that talking about the incident is just making the kid upset again, so he says, " We can talk about it later". He himself is trying to hold his anger toward their dad, knowing Sam needed him to at least seem calm, so he could keep himself together.

He displays the threaded needle to Sam, showing him what needs to be done. The little brother becomes hysterical, trying to pull his hand away, but Dean won't let him. He stops pulling and instead tries to talk his way out of it, " Please Dean, no", he begs with his best ' you just kicked my puppy' face.

" You know I have to Sammy," Dean says avoiding eye contact, because if he looked into those eyes, Sam would win. He takes the kid's unharmed hand and places it on his own forearm, squeezing tightly he asks" Remember what to do?", Sam nods having given up on trying not to cry, so now the tears are now freely falling.

As Dean works on closing the wound, Sam does as he always does when it hurts to be fixed up by his brother and digs his nails into Dean's skin. The younger keeps his eyes shut, tight as the older works as quickly as he can without compromising neatness. He doesn't even mind the fact that Sam is squeezing so hard it's drawing blood, anything to make it better for Sammy. Before long Dean finishes, putting some ointment on first before rewrapping the hand with a fresh bandage.

"See, not that bad," Dean says, stilling his brother's freshly repaired shaking hand. He swipes the small amount of blood from his arm, " you need to cut your nails, Samantha."

Sam replaces his arm where it was, wrapped around his ribs. " Sorry", he mumbles, wincing.

There wasn't a point to apologizing, so Dean ignores it, " You said your chest hurts right?". Sam confirms with a nod. " Kay, shirt off.", he commands with his hands gripping the bottom of Sam's shirt, which has spots of blood from his hand on it. The older brother helps the younger get his arms out, carefully maneuvering around Sam's suspected injuries. Even though Sam can barely get his hands above his shoulders they manage to get the shirt off together, but Dean isn't nearly ready for what was underneath. Bruises litter Sam's upper chest as if he was kicked over and over again, and it was the same for his gut but the bruises are even worse. He pulls Sam off the wall to check his back, finding footprints. Dad freakin' stomped on Sam, this is way past too far. Once again Dean had to keep his anger in check, for Sam. " Sammy.", he breathes out.

The kid's breaths are now more like pants as if taking his shirt off sucked all his leftover energy. Sam knew exactly what Dean was thinking even though his face looked calm, but he knew his brother, " He wouldn't stop, Dean." He makes his tear-filled eyes meet Dean's watery ones. " I begged, but…", he looks away embarrassed that he's crying like this, " He said I deserved this, that I need to learn."

Okay, that's enough! He forces Sam to look at him again, " No Sam, you didn't deserve this, and don't you go thinking you did, ever."

" Okay," Sam says bowing his head even though he doesn't agree.

Dean starts feeling the various bruises, beginning with Sam's ribs; most bruised, none broken. He then moves to the kid's back, pulling him off the wall again, and checking to make sure its nothing more but extremely sore. Each time he feels Sam flinch in pain, he shoots him a 'sorry' look. When he's sure Sam's back is okay, he moves to his gut. He presses down on the bruise on the kid's left side, as he does so Sam hyperventilates, more so than before. He starts to say that he is almost done, but before he can say a word Sam's eyes roll back, and he slouches forward limply onto Dean's shoulder. " Dammit", Dean curses, his suspicion of Sam having a concussion confirmed. He cradles Sam's head and gently lies him on the ground before softly clapping his cheek, forcing a smile when Sam looks up at him confused, moments later. " You with me kid?"

Sam tries to nod but it just makes the spinning worse, " ...m' jus' dizzy"

" I'm almost done, think you can stay awake for me?"

The younger nods, swallowing the vomit that threatens its way up as tears spill out his eyes and roll to his ears. Dean presses down on the last gut bruise, becoming even more worried as he feels its rigidness. Okay hospital, now. He stands up off the bathroom floor, says that he'll be back to Sam, then quickly goes to his temporary bedroom to fetch one of his zip-up hoodies before returning to Sam. Getting back on one knee first, he lifts Sam to a sitting position. " Here put this on,". He helps each arm in and then zips it up while making sure Sam stays upright. " Can you walk?", he asks already knowing that even if the kid can't he'll say he can.

" ...mhmm." He says trying to get on his feet himself, but ultimately needing his brother's help since the world is spinning.

They get a total of two steps in, with Sam leaning heavily against Dean before his knees buckle, his older brother catching him before his face meets the floor. Determining that Sam can't walk himself and that they need to move faster than this he easily picks Sam up, holding him bridal style. " D'n, m' n't a baby," Sam whines.

Dean grins at Sam's complaint, " Could've fooled me"

The older brother moves them both through the destroyed house, " Where we goin'," Sam asks once he realizes they are walking towards the Impala.

Dean opens the passenger side door with the hand under his brother's back, " We gotta get you checked out by a doctor.", he answers before placing Sam on his side of the bench seat.

He loops around the front of the car, sweeping his hand across the hood as he goes. He opens the driver side door and slides in, wasting no time starting the engine. As he starts down the dirt road Sam huffs out in one breath, " No doctor", as he leans against the cool window.

Dean turns the car onto the main road, seven minutes to go. He knows Sam has a more than slight fear of hospitals, so it's understandable, " I just want to make sure you're fine.", he says purposefully leaving out how he could be internally bleeding. " You trust me right?"

" I trus' you D'n", Sam says, his eyes drooping closed again.

" Good", the older brother reaches over and ruffles Sam's hair, " Stay awake for me"

The rest of the ride is spent with Dean talking to Sam to keep the kid awake even though he wasn't talking back. Dean pulls the car to a screeching stop at the end of the emergency room loop where ambulances usually park, seconds later he pockets the car keys. He practically jumps out the car and runs to Sam's side, opening the door and carrying him like before. Sam's head rests on his brother's chest and his arm hangs limply. " Still with me little brother", Dean whispers to Sam.

The younger brother pushes his head further into Dean's body, " No, m' tired.", he whines like the child he still is, with his brows creased.

" You can sleep now Sam, Everything will be fine when you wake up.", and with that Sam closes his eyes and his stress lines fade. Dean marches through the automatic doors, shouting for help.

It takes less than a minute for a couple of nurses and a doctor to bring a stretcher over that Dean places Sam on. The doctor barks orders toward the nurses then turns to Dean asking a question that honesty is just background noise to him. He's brought back to the present by a firm, " Sir, did you hear me, I said what happened here."

Dean swallows the lump in his throat, then clears it, " Bullies,", he chokes out as the first thing he can think of, speaking without taking his eyes off of Sam.

The doctor unzips the too big hoodie, glancing at the kid's injuries, then at the other kid in front of him, " Bullies?", he confirms with disbelief. Dean nods, thinking about it a bully really did do this, the tormentor just happens to be his father. " Okay, just wait there.", he motions to the waiting room, " fill out the paperwork, and someone will come get you shortly."

Sam is then wheeled away, and Dean is left feeling useless. He decides the best thing to do first is get himself cleaned up in the bathroom since he still had red stained hands from fixing his brother up, so he follows the sign that leads him there. Once in the bathroom he goes to a sink a turns the water on, taking a second to stop and take a breath before letting the flowing water wash the blood away. And he hadn't noticed it before, but his hands are shaking. Dean quickly turns the faucet off, then uses both wet hands to cover his face. In his pocket, his phone buzzes, almost startling him. He fishes the device from his pants, flips it open, and glances at the caller ID; it's Dad. He stares as the phone continues to ring, contemplating whether he should answer or not. He presses the green button then puts the phone to his ear, " Hel-"

" The hell are you boys?', John speaks on the other end not letting Dean finish, having just gotten to the house to find it empty.

" Uh, the hospital," Dean says in a no-duh kind of way. Why wouldn't they be at the hospital with the way John had left Sam.

" Why?'', the father gruffly interrogates honestly no idea why his sons would go.

Okay, that's Dean's breaking point, first Dad beats the shit out of Sam, then he calls him oblivious to how bad the kid is hurt because he'd just left him there, probably to go to some bar at that. " Why, why, I don't know Dad maybe because you beat Sam to hell, and just left him there on the freakin' bathroom floor!"

John is taken aback by his oldest's boldness toward him. " Dean…", he warns.

" Do you even care, like at all." , Dean continues his rant in a low growl.

John audibly grins with a huff, " You're just overreacting like you always do when it comes to that boy."

" No, as a matter of fact, I'm not, he could barely keep himself conscious", Dean argues, shouting this time.

" As a matter of fact'', John mocks, " You are. So, listen closely, I want you back here, with your brother, in no more than two hours, or else I'm coming to get you and beating the smart ass outta you, understand."

" No " he shouts into the phone," You listen, Sam and I we're leaving, don't look for us, and if we ever see your sorry ass again, I'm calling the cops.", he threatens back, surprised at the sudden braveness he's granted, before hanging up. Moments later, out of anger, he chucks his cellphone at the wall, screaming as he does so. He gives himself another minute or two to regain his composure, then heads back to the waiting area, picking up the required paperwork on the way. He fills in the blanks, easily as if it were his own information, and purposefully leaving some parts that way. Then he prepares himself for the long wait of worrying about his little brother that is to come.


	2. Chapter 2

**First things first, I would like to thank everyone who has followed, viewed, and for leaving good reviews.**

 **Secondly, I'm sorry for the time it's taken to get this chapter up, I've had a lot of projects for school due, so thanks for the patience**

 **So, without further ado, I give you chapter two.**

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is an hour into waiting and Dean is becoming equally more scared and worried. He's worried for his brother, the kid had barely been able to keep himself awake and could be bleeding internally, and scared because if he couldn't get them out of here in the next less than an hour they were super screwed. He curses at himself, what was he thinking threatening John the way he did, even if the man did deserve it. And if their dad walks through those sliding doors, he'd act like any normal father would, like he has nothing to do with the situation, and they'd have to go with him. Dean hides his face in his hands which are situated between his knees, trying to do the whole thinking positive thing that Sam seemed to be so good at, but his worry kept pushing the positivity away. He's brought out of his thoughts by a feminine voice calling out, " Winchester?"

Dean's head quickly pops up, and he's out of his seat faster than that. "Yeah, right here."

The woman, wearing a white lab coat, walks up to him with a smile that in Dean's opinion doesn't exactly match a hospital's feel. " Hi," she greets, " I'm Doctor Paige, Sam's doctor. And you are?", she says with her hand outstretched.

" Dean, his brother," Dean answers not even noticing the hand.

" Okay, are your parents around?", she asks since she's not supposed to give any further information unless it is to a parent.

Dean shakes his head, knowing what the lady is getting at he says, " No, but I'm as close as your gonna get, so…", more harshly than intended.

Doctor Paige nods in understanding that the parents aren't in the picture, not meaning to upset the young man in front of her. " Oh, in that case," she flips the chart in her hand, so she could read off it. " When you brought Sam here we suspected he had internal bleeding, that he could've had broken ribs and a concussion." Dean nods thinking, _tell me something I don't know,_ to himself and waiting for the woman to continue. " Umm, we took him up to get scans of his head and abdomen for the concussion and bleeding, as well as x-rays for his chest.". She pauses for a second to allow Dean to ask any questions, but none come so she continues, " The concussion is minor, his ribs are nothing beyond really bruised, which will still no doubt hurt, and as far as the internal bleeding was there, but corrected by itself.", she finishes.

Dean releases a heavy breath he wasn't even aware he was holding, " So, he's fine", he says relieved, " Can you take me to him"

The doctor nods, " Sure, follow me."

Dean follows Doctor Paige through the ER and to the elevator. They stop on the third floor and step off. He keeps following until she stops in front of a door. Sam is there on the bed curled up on his side with his back to the door. The only medical equipment attached to the kid being an IV in his forearm. Before the doctor walks away she says how they gave Sam something for his pain so he would be able to sleep, and how she wanted to keep him until tomorrow so they can monitor his concussion and bleeding.

As soon as she walks out of sight, Dean shuts the door, and quickly moves to rewake Sam. He already had told himself that if Sam was too hurt to leave, then they wouldn't and he would just face whatever punishment their dad had for him, but Sam has traveled in worse condition. He moves to the side of the bed where Sam is facing and sweeps the bangs off the kid's face, keeping his hand on the top of his brother's head. " Sam-my", he whispers. Sam scrunches his nose, as he always does when on the verge of waking up. " Sam," he calls again this time louder.

" S'p bein' s' loud.", the youngest Winchester complains

" C'mon, get up we gotta go", Dean instructs putting the bag that held Sam's clothes on the foot of the hospital bed.

Sam sits up, shaking the dizziness away from doing so a little too fast, and fisting the sleep out of his eyes. He notices how Dean looks like he's in a hurry, " Wha', where?", Sam questions his words slurred.

Dean grins at the slur of his brother's words and how he's swaying a little; they gave Sammy the good drugs. " Outta this town," he answers, " Get dressed."

Sam swings his legs out of bed, holding the arm with the IV in it out, the same arm with the injured hand, once he notices it. Knowing it needs to come out and not wanting to do it himself. Dean complies with Sam's request, pulling it out without so much as a countdown since he knew Sam wouldn't feel it with the pain meds in his system. Sam takes the hospital gown off and is now in nothing but his boxers and socks. Then as he slowly puts his bloodied jeans back on he asks, " Wha' 'bout D'd?"

Leave it to Sam to care even after dad had beaten the shit outta him, Dean moves to help Sam put the hoodie back on because even with the pain numbed getting his arms in is going to be uncomfortable. " We are running from dad, so nothing like this happens to us ever again, okay."

Sam nods, " Kay"

Dean opens the room's door just enough so he can see if the coast is clear. He decides it's best for Sam to walk this time since carrying a drugged kid out of the hospital would look suspicious, plus Sam most likely will never let Dean carry him again. He takes one last sweep of the hall leading to the elevator before grabbing Sam by the sleeve and speedily walking out of the room, Sam following closely behind kind of dragging his feet. Dean presses the button on the wall, summoning the elevator. When it comes he's thankful that no one is on it because it just makes everything easier. They step in and Dean presses the next button, sending them back down to the first floor as Sam leans his head on the wall. Once on the main floor the boys easily make their way out the doors without anyone so much as questioning them, this hospital's security sucks.

The older brother makes sure Sam gets into the car okay before rounding to the back, bends down to remove the magnetic tracker that he knew his father planted there when he gave him the car, and puts it under some random truck's body; _have fun tracking that, dad._ Then he gets behind the wheel, starts the engine, and drives off, not really knowing where he's going, just away, with his already asleep little brother right next to him.

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 **Thanks for reading, next chapter will be coming a bit sooner for this one. please review, if you want.**


	3. Chapter 3

**Once again, thank you for the reviews and follows, I really appreciate them, and also thanks for sticking with this story, I appreciate that too :)**

 **So here's chapter three, the final one**

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They have been driving for a good two hours to nowhere in particular, just away. Dean decided it would be best not to go to Bobby's or Pastor Jim's, despite both being basically family to them because John would expect them to go running to them. No, their dad taught them how to disappear, so that's exactly what he intends to do. Dean looks over to his still sleeping little brother, as he found himself doing subconsciously every couple of minutes, allowing the kid to lie on his thigh. Moments after he looks away, Sam moans and his face scrunches, indicating he's about to wake up. Dean ruffles Sam's hair, " You awake sleepin' beauty."

Sam rolls off his side and is now looking up at the roof, then slowly sits up, so that he can sit normally. " Yeah", he huffs out, swallowing hard.

The older brother notices how the younger has the ' _I'm gonna be sick',_ look. " You good, need me to stop?"

"Mmhmm.", Sam hums, covering his mouth and leaning forward so that his head is now almost touching his knees, ignoring how his bruised body protest, as he keeps his eyes shut.

Dean pulls the car onto the dirt beside the paved highway road, the tires kicking up dirt. He quickly leans over and pushes the passenger door open for his brother. Sam scoots himself over until he's close enough to kick his legs out and kneel on the dirt ground. Just in time, he gets out, because as soon as his knees hit the ground, he gags before emptying whatever was in his stomach.

Dean rushes to his brother's side, sliding across to the passenger side of the bench seat and positioning Sam so between his legs. Dean would say this is completely out of the blue, but that would be lying; this is the exact way Sam always reacts to hospital grade pain meds. Sam spews a few more times until everything is out of his system. Dean moves the kid's too long bangs out of his face and traces circles on his back, trying not to puke himself. When Sam is done he sits on his heels and swipes his mouth with his, or should we say the sleeve of Dean's hoodie. " You good now.", The older brother soothes giving Sam a couple pats on the back.

" Better ", the younger mumbles, resting his head on the interior of the door, and his shoulder on part of Dean's leg, hating the god-awful taste in his mouth.

Dean opens the glove box and reaches in for the bottled water, that he always made sure was in there, and uncaps it before holding it in front of Sam, " Here", he prompts

Sam gratefully accepts the bottle, taking a small sip, swishing the liquid around in his mouth, and spitting, then repeating twice more before taking one last drink of the liquid; swallowing this time. " Thanks", he whispers, holding the water out so Dean could take it.

" Don't mention it Sammy", he says tossing the water back, then shutting the glove box. " Wanna lay down in the back", Dean questions, wanting to get back on the road, but also wanting Sam to be as comfortable as possible. Sam shakes his head, denying the offer. " Okay" he accepts even though he knows he should make him, but that's easier said than done.

Dean slides back across, behind the wheel, as Sam uses the door to help himself into the seat; Dean ready to help if needed. Sam grunts from the pain the movement causes his bruises and the pressure using his stitched hand causes. He closes the squeaky door before Dean guns the engine and starts down the road again.

Sam is sitting up straight except for his head against the window. " Where?", he asks as if that clearly shares what he wants to know.

" Where are we or where we're going.", Dean asks doing his best not to sound annoyed from the lack of clarification.

Sam shrugs, "Both"

" We're about forty-five minutes into South Dakota, and as for where we're headed, I don't know exactly just yet; at least another state away." He takes a quick subtle look at his battered brother. " If you're up for it"

The younger brother nods, knowing that was big brother for ' If you need to stop we will'. " Why don't we just go to Bobby's", he asks. Their Dad dropped them off there all the time anyway, or at least he used to. Plus Bobby told them to come over anytime, and this seems like as good of a time as any.

" I thought about it, but don't ya think that Bobby's would be the first place Dad checks?"

" Yeah, I guess", Sam mumbles, sinking back into his seat.

Dean had learned to read Sam early on in the kid's life, even if Sam thinks he's hiding behind a well-practiced mask, and right now he knows his brother is worried about something. " We'll be fine on our own, Sammy", Dean assures.

" I know, we always are, it's just…". Sam picks at his nails,as he does when he's nervous or concerned about something, " ...we can't run from him forever.", he finishes, still not looking at Dean

Dean knows exactly what he's getting at, and he'd be a liar if he were to say he isn't worried about the same thing. Their dad taught them the disappearing game, hell he's the master of it, and on top of that John is a five-star tracker; how long can they really hide. " We can try.", Dean states with confidence.

The younger brother dips his head and is now looking at his knees. " Yeah but when he finds us." _when not if_ , " he's gonna be really mad, like worse than this mad"

Dean grips the wheel a little tighter than before, " Well, what do you want to do then turn back? And for what, so he can just hurt you again Sam, huh?" , he says unintentionally raising his voice without taking his eyes off the road.

" No."

The older brother softens his voice, " Okay then, we run.", he chokes on his words a bit before turning the radio on, letting the familiar sound of Led Zepplin flood into the car; his way of saying end of conversation.

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 **The End.**

 **Please review, it helps me become a better writer. If anyone has any suggestions of what I should write next let me know.**


	4. Chapter 4

**Hello all. Once again thank you for taking the time to read and review this story, and I would once again like to apologize for how long it's taken me to post this chapter. Truth be told I wasn't going to write another chapter because I was kinda stuck on where to go with it, but you guys wanted me to write another, so I did. So, here we go another chapter, long overdue chapter.**

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Another state away like he said, still doesn't feel nearly far enough, but right now Sam needs a bed that's not the backseat of the car, so he stops. It is nearly two in the morning, and honestly, he's exhausted with the driving and all, but he knows his big brother duties are nowhere near done for the night.

" Alright Sammy boy, let's get you into a real bed," Dean says as the Impala stops in a motel parking lot. He turns reaching behind the bench seat to give Sam a soft shoulder pat.

Around an hour or less after his roadside puke show. Sam took the offer of stretching out in the back and attempt to get some sleep. " M' kay " Sam mumbles, but makes no effort to so much as open his eyes.

Dean gets out and heads to the motel office in order to get them a room for the next two days, figuring it's smart to move on after that. Upon returning to the car Sam is still in the back with a blanket draped over him, so Dean opens the door for him and asks," Need help?".Sam nods, his cheek rubbing against the car's leather seat, just by accepting help that clues Dean into how crappy Sam feels. "Alright, c'mon."

The older brother spins around and sits on the edge of the seat so Sam can climb onto him easier. Sam props himself up then gets on his knees before circling his arms around Dean's neck. Sam rests his warm cheek on his brother's shoulder. With a grunt, that's more for dramatic effect than the actual lifting, Dean hoists Sam up, looping his arms with the kid's dangling legs; so they aren't hanging anymore. The blanket that Dean had covered Sam with earlier slides off onto the car's floor.

They make their way to the room, which is located on the ground floor in the far corner. Even with the extra weight of a twelve-year-old on his back, it doesn't bother him. When he gets to the chipped green painted door of their room, he jams the key in the knob and twists it before using his foot to nudge it open.

For the most part, the room is just like any other motel room, with the patterned wallpaper, the various floor stains, and the warn furniture they're so familiar with- yep home sweet home. Dean peels the covers from the bed furthest from the door; the one closest is reserved for the defender a.k.a him. He turns his back to the bed, bending backward slightly and unhooking Sam's entangled fingers from each other. "Easy does it", he grunts lowering his brother as carefully as possible. Sam lays with his face to the wall and his back to Dean, starting to drift again, as his brother slips both untied shoes off Sam's feet; tossing them to the floor. The older brother takes a seat next to the younger with his back pressed against Sam's, " How we feelin'"

Leaning over his body, so Dean is now able to see Sam's face, on one elbow, he brushes sweaty bangs out of the way of a rarely seen forehead; only then feeling the heat coming off him. Great, a fever, well that's Sam for you, one thing goes wrong and everything else follows suit, for him, it's never just a cold, or just a bug, or just a brutal beating from his father.

" M' hot." Sam half groans half whines.

"Yeah.", _tell me something I don't know._ Dean sighs combing his fingers through his short hair, " How 'bout the pain, rate it"

The younger brother shifts in place," Like a seven", he says with his eyes squeezed closed.

The kid's pain tolerance will always impress Dean, any other person, kid or not, would be crying in pain if they were in his shoes. " Alright, hang tight.", Dean pats Sam's knee.

First off, he needs to find Sam some meds, that won't make him puke his guts out of course; however, the problem with that is they left the first aid kit at the house, with John. Dean goes through the room in search of anything that could help, but comes up with nothing; because why would anything be easy. Returning to his brother, Dean rotates Sam carefully out of his curled up position to his back. " I gotta go on a supply run, get you some medicine for the pain and fever". He unzips the hoodie to help- even if not that much- cool Sam off. " I'll be right back.", he says standing and starting to walk away, but is stopped when there's a pull on the sleeve of his leather jacket.

Sam shoots up so fast that you'd think he's in no pain at all and grips his older brother's jacket as if it's life itself. Dean first looks at the hand holding him back, then the fever-glazed eyes it belongs to. There's no exchange of words needed, Sam's face tells him everything, _please don't leave me, not again._

Dean then turns around fully, causing Sam to crash back into the headboard with relief, his grip on Dean never loosening. Dean crouches down, putting his hand on top of Sam's smaller wrapped up one, " Ten minutes.", he's looking Sam directly in the watery pleading eyes, so that he knows he's making a vow, " Ten minutes, I promise that's it.". Really can Dean blame the kid for being so clingy, the last time he'd left him on a short supply run, well...everything went to shit.

Reluctantly Sam lets go," Okay", he says his voice vibrating a little. Yet still in the back of his mind he can't help but think that without Dean there something, anything could happen to him, but what's ten minutes.

" Goodman."

Dean stands again, then heads for the door, " Don't open the door for any reason, not even for me, 'cause I've gotta key.", he dangles the keys from his index finger, waits for Sam's nod, then heads out.

He decides to take a much-needed walk, backtracking to the twenty-four-hour pharmacy they passed on the way in. The three-ish minute walk there is silent with no other nightwalkers. The words what now repeating in his head like a mantra. What now, what now what now? If they stay in one place for too long, then they risk being caught, but at the same time, everything they need is two states over. The credit cards, the weapons, save for their personal pocket knives, and Dean's gun, their clothes, were left behind so eventually, the money they have will be spent, then what? Sure Dean can always hustle some pool, or poker, or whatever else but that doesn't always work. They've escaped from John for now, but what happens if, no when he catches up to them, bad things that's what.

Dean walks into the pharmacy, already knowing exactly what to get. It takes a minute to find everything in this unfamiliar store, but he still manages to get in and out in five minutes give or take. Another few minutes later he's back at the motel, he stops at the car first to grab one of his spare t-shirts for Sam since all that he's wearing is a hoodie right now, then goes back to the room. He finds no surprise when he walks into a sleeping Sam. The grey hoodie once on the boy's slim frame is now held in Sam's arms with his face buried in it, and the top sheets and cover are thrown on the floor beside the bed. With plastic bags in hand he Dean goes to sit next to Sam, pulling off, then chucking his jacket to his bed in the process.

When Dean sits, the bed dips causing Sam to look up at him with eyes open to slits, " D'n, you b'k?", he mumbles

" Yep," Dean reaches into the bag making a crinkling sound. " And I've got the sick Sammy arsenal". He fishes a small white bottle with a red label out, " Tylenol.", he shakes it then sets it on the nightstand, " Gatorade", he puts it next to the Tylenol, " And just in case you're hungry, crackers.", the box goes next to everything else.

Sam props himself up on both elbows before Dean drags him up from under his armpits into a full sitting position. " What color Gatorade?" Sam asks, fisting his tired eyes unable to see for himself through the darkness.

The older brother tugs the bedside lamp's chain, realizing how dark the room is, " Obviously I got blue, you dope," he jokes, " it's the only one you like."

Sam stretches out his hand at the bottle, " Good", he huffs in an almost chuckle, waiting for it to be handed to him.

Dean takes hold of the bottled blue liquid and cracks it open, " Small sips, we wouldn't want it to come back up.", he warns before handing it off.

Sam takes it with both hands, the liquid almost seeming too heavy for him in his weakened state. As directed he takes one small sip and swallows it once, twice, three times. The moment of truth, if Sam gulps one more time, something's coming up; something always comes up on the fourth swallow. The younger sibling nods, knowing what Dean is waiting to find out, he gives a thumb up; the all clear. Once he's sure the Gatorade isn't going to make a reappearance Sam takes another, slightly larger sip. As he does so Dean pops the Tylenol open, the shakes one tablet into his palm.

" Okay, now try it with this.", he holds it between his thumb and index finger and waits for Sam to take it.

Sam eyes it, " sS'not gonna make me sick is it?" ' cause that would suck.

Dean smirks, " No, it's not as strong as what they gave you at the hospital."

Sam, with complete trust in his brother's reassurance, fills his mouth with a small amount of blue liquid, flicks the white tablet in, then gulps as much he can fit- making his cheeks puff- before downing everything. He swallows three times, then burps.

The burp puts Dean on high alert " Good?" he questions.

Sam wipes his upper lip dry with his forearm, " Think so." _, hope so._

The older brother takes the black ACDC t-shirt that he got from the car and presents it balled up to the younger, " Here, we uh, left all our stuff with...him, and you don't have a shirt, so…" Usually, Dean would make fun of Sam's scrawniness when he is shirtless, that litter the kid's body, old and new, make him feel so uncomfortable, but the bruises, he just wants them to go away, so covering them is the next best thing. And he Sam knows must feel vulnerable, exposed this way he would

Sam takes the shirt and scrunches it up to the neck hole so that can slide it over his head with a bit more ease. When he gets it over his head, needing to duck his head down more than usual as a way to make up for not being able to raise his arms too high, he tries to slip his arms through, wincing in pain when he has to raise it. He manages to do one himself, and probably could have done the other, but Dean intervenes, pulling his arm and bent elbow through. The shirt is big on his skinny body and slightly drapes below his waist, but despite the size, it makes Sam feel safe because it's Dean's. Dean can't help but feel bad that he doesn't have any other, more comfortable, unbloodied, ripped pants for Sam to change into, but he's doing his best; too bad his best isn't good enough.

Dean takes a glance at the digital alarm clock its red numbers read two fifty. " It's late or early, or whatever, so I'm gonna get some shut eye."

" Me too." Sam slides down to the pillow under him and Dean pulls thin sheets over the kid's shoulder, " Thanks, Dean". He's not thanking him for any one specific thing, just everything.

Dean ruffles Sam's hair, " No thanks needed little bro, these are things awesome brothers like myself do"

" Yeah I know, but still thanks," he says through a yawn with droopy eyes.

Before retreating to his own bed the older brother smooths the side of the younger's hair down where it stuck every which way from where he had slept on it earlier, " Night Sammy"

" Night Dean"

Dean collapses on his not so comfortable motel the having driven a good few hours, plus the emotional exhaustion from everything else, he doesn't bother doing anything more than to kick his boots off. He doesn't know what's next, how could he, but the one thing he's sure of; the one thing that's an absolute fact is that he's protecting his kid, no matter what.

* * *

Sam opens his eyes, slowly, no longer in the motel room sleeping in the bed next to his brother's, he's on a cold blood-stained white tiled floor; back in the vacation home. He's back how and where he was before his brother came and found him, with his palm bleeding freely. It's like all of his senses are heightened, the lights brighter, the steady drip of blood to the floor louder, the tears rolling down his face wetter. He calls for Dean over and over again, praying that this isn't real. Then there is a pound on the bathroom door followed by an all too familiar rough voice, " Sam, unlock the s door goddamnit, I mean it!"

" Dad?", he manages to choke out. Oh god don't be Dad, please don't be-. The banging continues louder, harder, and more violent this time.

" Sam open up, right now! "

" No, no no!", Sam cries out. Hasn't the punching and kicking, and cutting been enough!

" No, no is not an option, you fucked up now come and face the consequences.", John shouts through the door.

Sam covers his ears and scrunches his eyes closed, " Leave me alone!" _please, just go away._

At that, the door splinters open, his worst nightmare on the other side. The boy quivers as his father storms in. He tries to disappear into the wall to no avail as John comes and grips the front of his shirt and yanks him up with more force than needed. " Dean Help!", Sam screams. He knows Dean was right next to him, where'd he go.

John gives him a swift heavy -handed audible punch with his free hand, causing Sam's mouth to fill with blood. " Remember Sam, we talked about this, he doesn't want you around, your too weak, you hold him back."

"No," Sam grunts trying to pull free, with a bloody, red, and stinging face by punching and kicking at his dad's gut, but it just makes John grasp tighter, "He's my brother, he'll always want me", _or at least he thinks so…_

John throws his reject of a son to a sliding stop into the wall, " Well I'm your father, and I wish you were dead, hell I wish you were never born, so are you sure he wants you, I mean he did just leave you here with me." He now stands directly above Sam and brings a heavy boot down on the kid's chest. Sam starts scratching at the man's jeans in response trying to get the crushing, that's stopping his full breaths to stop. " It's time you learn." his foot raises then slams down again. John brings the gun from his belt loop and points it in Sam's direction, " And there's only one way you'll truly do that", then he pulls the trigger

" DAD, NO!"

Sam shoots up, his eyes darting open to a dark 's dripping in a cold sweat, and his ears are ringing, wet bangs clinging to his forehead. His hand is clutching his shirt at the chest as if he's trying to stop his thumping heart from leaping out. "Dad, no", he whispers this time, still not fully in the present. Rough hands clasp one arm; Dad trying to pull him away, or so he thought. " s-Stop, please" " please!" he shouts," I learned okay, I learned." He tries to twist away but the hands just double, " Dad, p-please stop", he pleads breathlessly.

The kid is in the corner of the bed with his back against the wall, his knees tucked into his chest, his head sandwiched between them, " I'm sorry", he weaps, gripping his hair at the roots between fingers, his whole body shaking. " I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorr-", he says using one hand to hit himself each time he needlessly apologies.

It isn't until he hears a firm yet soothing voice accompanied by not the smell of alcohol stinging his nose, but what he can only describe as safe, that he realizes the hands aren't hostile, " Sam". Dean holds tight to his brother's shoulders so that he can't struggle away, " Sam look at me, dad's not here, it's Dean." Dean forces Sam's hands out of his hair, and holds tight to struggling wrists, " Sam", he shouts this time, but not in a harsh way.

This time when he hears his name Sam slowly glares up at the figure before him, his body losing tension when even in the almost pitch black they lock eyes, " Dean", he sobs his voice vibrating.

The older brother moves next to the younger, as tears freely fall down Sam's face; the kid clearly being too exhausted to hold them back, as he usually would. Dean pulls Sam to his side, feeling the slightly lesser heat of Sam's body, " Shhh, Sam Dad's not here, it was just a dream.", he soothes not caring that tears now soak his shirt, " It's okay"

" I don' get it, Dean, why does he hate us so much what did we do?" _, why does he want me dead?_

" Nothing.", he answers with no now nor ever have they done anything for them to deserve the abuse John has inflicted on them over the years.

Sam curls his fingers in Dean's shirt right by the pendant he gave him years ago, " Then why does he do it, why?" Sam really doesn't get it if they did nothing why are they always punished.

" I dunno, Dad's just angry and sad and whatever the hell else, but that doesn't give him a free pass okay?"

" Angry at us?"

Dean takes a deep breath, " No, just angry." _At the world, at himself._ He adjusts himself so he and Sam are making eyes contact again, " So you didn't do a damn thing wrong, got that,"

He holds his brother and they adjust to positions so they are relatively comfortable, (Sam more so), with Sam in between Dean's legs, and Dean leaned against the wall. Eventually, Sam's tears stop and his hiccuping breath evens out, with the help of his brothers calming voice and the way he rubs the back of his head as he does when the kid is upset. Though he's sleep, Dean's not leaving his brother's side again tonight, just in case, so he nods off on the wall in a position that will no doubt cause him pain in the morning.

* * *

John's jaw is left agape from the surprise of what he's just heard. This unwelcomed disobedience he expects from Sam, but Dean. Does he believe any of the threats to be true, hell no. Does he think Dean will take Sam and run, no; he's too smart to do such a thing. They'll come home as instructed, begging for forgiveness, but still, no crime can go unpunished. He told them two hours, plenty of time for them to get here, and if they're on time maybe he'd go easy, maybe.

The time ticks by. Hour one passes, John is drunk. Hour two comes along, he's plastered. By the third hour, he's passed out on the couch, completely oblivious of his sons' great escape.

The sun's rays shine in through thin curtains and into his eyes wake him. Slowly he opens his eyes to gradually expose them to the light, but a pounding in his skull makes it harder. Clumsily, he sits up, then waves his hand over the coffee table until he finds the pain pills, knocking empty bottles over in the popping two into his mouth, then gulping whatever of the now warm dark amber liquid is left, he downs both tablets at the same time. John scrubs a rough calloused hand down his face and holds it over his eyes as he takes another second to gain his bearings. Once sure his legs will cooperate, he stands with a grunt. He checks the wall clock behind him, it reads seven in the morning, give or take, so he calls out, " Dean." into an empty house. The way it's said, as an indefinite command, would've had Dean in front of him in moments, had he been there, then he shouts Sam's name the same way.

The lack of response or lack thereof tells John everything he needs to know, the boys never came home, that much he knows as all their belongings are still there in the house, meaning they have no money or supplies; so how long could they possibly last on their own, Then it hits him. Bobby, he's less than an hour away, and the boys trust him, more than they would ever trust John. If they needed any help whatsoever they'd no doubt go to him. Through the dark and trash, John manages to locate his cell, flip it open, then dial. It rings a few times before Bobby's voice comes through the phone. John explains the situation, well actually a version of it which obviously avoided the way he'd decided to discipline Sam. He tells Bobby that the boys decided to take off in the middle of the night without telling him, then asked if they were there. Yes, John knows his voice is probably not as clear as it would be if he weren't hungover, but he feels that he's done an adequate job of hiding it.

Even on the other end, Bobby can tell that there's more to the story than John's leading on, but he keeps his suspicions to himself. " I haven't seen em", he dismisses, " I let you know if I hear anythin' though"

John thanks the older man before hanging up and then angrily tossing the device to the ground, " Goddamnit!"

He plops back down to the couch, pinching the bridge of his nose between his pointer finger and thumb, taking deep calming breaths. That's when he remembered, the first thing he did when handing off his car to Dean was put a LoJack on it, _Good Thinking Winchester._

* * *

Bobby has always been on the boys' side, especially against their dad. That's why he calls Dean as soon as he hangs up with their father. Yes it's early, and Dean and Sam are most likely sleeping, but he needs the full unbutchered truth because he knew what John gave him wasn't that. The first time calling it rings but goes to voicemail, so he calls again and gets an answer this time.

" Hello," The voice is way past tired, and more than slightly annoyed.

" Dean, your dad called me."

* * *

 **Well, there it is. If you want to tell me how I did, leave a review, or don't. And let me know if you want a chapter five or not.**

 **Oh, and I forgot to mention this before if it wasn't already obvious, but... Supernatural and his characters don't belong to me.**


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